A Breath of Spring
by Durotos
Summary: What he viewed as gloomy, she saw as beautiful. Each wondered how the other could be so blind. Belated Secret Santa Gift for Fading Butterfly Wings for the Village Square Gift Exchange. MFoMT.
1. The Goddess's Naptime

He saw her every morning when he headed in for work, and to be honest, it was the only reason he looked forward to leaving the warmth of his bed at all as of late. It was too damn cold out.

Her hair was the color of fresh apple blossoms in the month of May – a pink blush with the warmth of the vernal sunshine. Milling about in the snow with her long parka and earmuffs, she was a breath of spring in this cold, dreary gray winter.

And that was probably the way she saw him, he realized with a sigh as he pulled on his gloves that morning. Dreary. Drab. Gray. That was his name, after all.

He forced a small grin on his face, waved goodbye to his roommate and pulled the door closed behind him, straightening the cap on his head as he did so. The smile faded from his mouth as he made his way down the creaky wooden stairs. His new roommate seemed to be particularly quiet and pensive with the latest snowfall, and he had caught the young man with tear-stained cheeks on more than one occasion. The one time the apprentice confronted him about it, brown-haired man had muttered quietly that he didn't want to talk about it. Who was Gray to force someone into speaking about an uncomfortable subject anyway? He wasn't even keen on talking about his own feelings.

His boots crunched through the freshly fallen snow and squeaked as he headed to the south. The snowflakes were large this morning and fell at a slow pace. A blanket of fresh snow was quickly covering the sleepy little town, and the young man was grateful that he didn't have to walk too far. There were few things that would make him stop in weather like this; he wasn't particularly fond of snow.

He halted.

There she was, exactly where she was expecting her to be – wandering about in the entrance of the poultry farm with a basket of feed laced on her arm, talking to her brother.

Rick was adjusting the stocking cap on his head. "I'm off to do some shopping. Can you handle things alright while I'm gone? Mom went back to bed, and I don't want you to wake her. Again, make sure that the chicken coop is firmly latched before-"

Popuri cut him off, and Gray was surprised at her harsh tone. He had never heard her voice sound like that before. "I've been doing this for nearly as long as you, y'know! I know what to do!"

"Well, I just don't feel like chasing down another chicken today. A white hen will be hard to see in all of this snow."

The young woman sighed. "I've got it, Rick." Her voice sounded less than enthusiastic as she shifted her basket onto her other side.

Her brother said nothing in reply and turned to leave. Upon seeing Gray walk by, he gave the young man a nod in greeting. He was met with a soft grunt and tip of the hat in reply. As the male poultry farmer headed north, Gray stole a glance at the young woman. Popuri's hands were tucked into her pockets with the basket looped on the crook of her arm.

"Good morning." Her soprano was smooth and creamy, a lovely contrast to the cold, barren landscape he was staring at. He noted that her tone was much more pleasant than the one she used with her brother. The young man could feel his ears turning hot; he couldn't help but wonder if she reserved that voice for him.

"'Morning," he stammered in reply.

He was met with a musical giggle in response. The Harvest Goddess herself could not have a lovelier voice. The young man shook the blasphemous thoughts from his head. "Morning? Just 'morning'? Is it good, or bad, or what?" She let out a soft chuckle as she coyly walked back to the chicken coop. He didn't realize she was silently asking him to follow her – his feet had already obeyed.

"It's alright. An alright morning," he answered honestly as he tugged on the bill of his cap. Why was it that he yearned to speak with her, yet his words always came out wrong?

She mulled over his word choice as she stroked her chin. "An alright morning…?"

He gave her a shrug in response as he felt the color creep across his face, and it wasn't from the cold.

"Shrugging? That's a very noncommittal gesture," she teased with a soft laugh. She tossed her pink locks over her shoulder and wagged a finger at him with a smirk. "And so is using the word 'alright' to describe something." She frowned when she saw the young man shrink back a bit. Popuri had been trying to get more words out of the apprentice blacksmith lately, but he seemed intent on refusing to open up to her. He had an air of mystery about him in his aloof mannerisms and she would be lying if she said it didn't intrigue her a little.

Gray said nothing in defense for his selection of words. He scrambled to change the subject. "So, uh… what do you think of this winter, eh?" he immediately hated his feeble attempts at a proper dialogue. Talking about the weather? How more clichéd can one get? He bit the inside of his lip as punishment. Still, he was very curious as to what her answer would be. After all, winter was dull and glum; winter was Gray.

She led the way to the chicken coop and opened the door. One hen began to bolt from the building, but she shoved the bird back in with a use of force he didn't think she was capable of. She slammed the door and whirled around, a few strands of her cotton candy locks messed up from her fluffy earmuffs. The pretty young woman looked up at the sky, blinking her large scarlet eyes as a large snowflake landed on the tip of her nose. "This winter? I think it's beautiful." She gave him a warm smile.

The young man was sure that his pleased grin looked more like a grimace than anything else. The heat rising in his cheeks certainly didn't help things. It wasn't as if she had complimented _him_. "You mean it's not gloomy to you?" Why would the incriminating words not stop spilling out of his mouth?

She shook her head so emphatically that her earmuffs shifted. She steadied them with a pair of mittened hands. "How could someone see this as gloomy?" She stared at the wonderland around them.

He tugged on the bill of his cap and his gaze drifted to the bare trees. "Well, everything's dead, for one…" He silently cursed himself. Why must he always play the role of devil's advocate?

Popuri folded her arms across her chest and pouted, staring up at the clouds. "I don't think of it as dead. The earth needs to rest, just like all of us. It's a time to recharge. Dad used to refer to it as the Harvest Goddess's naptime, and the soft sounds of snowflakes falling on ice and the icicles jingling as they fall are her lullaby…" Popuri turned a bright shade of pink as her focus moved to the ground. "It must sound pretty stupid to you, huh? Mom always goes on about how poetic Dad was…"

He shook his head. "It doesn't sound stupid." Gray rubbed his gloved hands together and breathed on them to warm them.

The poultry farmer looked deep in thought. She buried her hands in her pockets and rocked back and forth on her heels and the balls of her feet. "So, Gray… do you have plans for Starry Night? It's next week, you know."

"Eh… Probably spend it with Gramps again in the forge." That meant a hot sit-down meal and his grandfather would be insistent that he remove his hat while eating. The young man sighed; he would have to actually comb his hair.

"Well?" Popuri looked at him imploringly.

He looked at the young woman in confusion. "Huh?"

She clasped her hands together and wrung them a little anxiously. "I don't mean to overstep my boundaries, but you're welcome to come over here. It will be me, Mom, Rick and Karen."

The offer was tempting… He pulled the bill on his hat to conceal his eyes. "I-I don't want to make Gramps to spend it alone. He has no one else since Grandma died years ago."

She gave him a playful smile. "What do you think of eggs?"

Again, he wasn't sure what the young woman was driving at. "They're…" he stopped himself from using the a-word: _alright_. "I-I mean… I like them just fine."

A smirk played at her pretty, shapely lips. "Great! It's settled then! I'll bring some spa boiled eggs and a rolled omelette. How does that sound?"

Once more, words eluded him. He nodded dumbly in response.

He was late for work. Gray slipped into the smithy and closed the door behind him quietly. Upon turning around, he nearly collided with his grandfather who was stoically standing in the doorway. The apprentice silently cursed himself, waiting for his scolding. The old man stared at him with an emotionless face. "She takes good care of her mother." Saibara gave the young man a slight nod before whirling around and walking back to his anvil, hammering away.

Gray shrugged his shoulders and pulled off his coat, preparing for work.

 _ **0o0o0o0**_

 _ **Author's Note: Hope you enjoy your belated gift, Fading Butterfly Wings! This is a multi-chapter story and I'll have the next portion up for you real soon!**_


	2. Brotherly Love

The apprentice was leaving work the next day, only to be met with disappointment. He saw the young woman disappearing into the chicken coop as he neared the farm. Gray was startled from his soft sigh as he heard his name being called. A bespectacled young man with strawberry blond hair was hurrying to the entrance gate of the poultry farm from chicken coop. The blacksmith was aware of the overprotective nature of Popuri's brother and his stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"Gray, Popuri says she is going to be spending Starry Night with you and Saibara." Rick's tone wasn't necessarily accusing, but it put him on edge a bit.

The young man wasn't sure what to say in response. In one way, he felt Rick's words were a challenge. In another, he felt that the poultry farmer was getting a feel for him. Gray was not going to acquiesce; it wasn't as if he had done anything wrong in agreeing to Popuri's self-invitation to their holiday event. "Yeah, she's coming to Grandpa's place." He kept any emotion out of his voice to avoid possible conflict.

The young man adjusted his glasses absentmindedly and brushed his hair out of his face. "You're from the city, right?" He fussed with the sleeves on his jacket.

He gave a slight nod and looked at Rick curiously for his sudden change in conversation topic.

The poultry farmer knew that the apprentice didn't speak much, but he couldn't help but be concerned about the way he stared at Popuri. He didn't see Gray as a bad guy, but he simply wanted to look out for his sister, especially if things got serious between the two of them. Popuri needed a man in her life that she could depend on – one who wouldn't leave her…

"When my dad left home to search for a cure for Mom, he put me in charge of the farm while he was away… So is your apprenticeship something like that? Are you looking to take over the smithy someday?" Rick kept his tone casual, or at least he thought he did.

Gray could hardly keep from rolling his eyes; he knew exactly what Popuri's overly concerned sibling was doing. "I have no intentions on going back to that damn city, if that's what you're asking. Why would I go back to the place where I was abandoned?" he spat, kicking at the snow with the tip of his boot as a wave of rage welled up within him.

Rick adjusted his glasses. "Huh… your dad, too?" His voice was soft as his eyes shone with a newfound understanding.

It angered Gray that his throat was tightening. He gave a slight nod in reply.

Without warning, the snow began to fall heavily, and the young man was grateful for the distraction for once. The sky looked like the inside of a snowglobe, large flakes blocking any proper vision. In a way, it looked quite magical, but Gray found it more of a nuisance than anything else. He was grateful for the bill on his hat, otherwise he would be constantly squinting to see like his companion was.

The poultry farmer was looking around them, but Gray wasn't sure what he was searching for. It wasn't as if anyone could see anything in this blasted weather, anyway. "Hey, you wanna go to the bar for a drink? My treat," Rick offered cordially, leading the way to the north.

Gray shrugged, realizing vaguely that he wasn't being given much of a choice. "Eh, why not?" He followed the young man to Doug's Inn.

0o0o0o0

Everyone seemed to have the same idea that night; the bar was packed. Gray brushed the large snowflakes off of his shoulders and stepped up to the bar, his companion following him as he wiped his glasses clean. He turned around and noticed Rick's face was red from the cold and snow and he realized he must look the same. Most of the people who had rushed in to get out of the snowfall were sporting similarly flushed cheeks; it was a sea of pink faces.

"So, what can I get you two?" Doug approached the pair, wiping down a beer stein with a towel. "Huh, it's really coming down out there." The barkeeper observed more guests dusting snow out of their hair and off of their clothing as they walked in the doorway.

"Go on, order whatever you want," Rick encouraged the young man.

"Er, alright. Scotch on the rocks for me." He plopped down on his favorite stool and let out a small sigh of relief at something that would warm his insides.

"The usual for you, Rick?" Doug asked as he reached for the bottle of whiskey.

"Yeah."

The apprentice noticed his roommate enter the bar out of the corner of his eye. The young man started to head upstairs, not bothering to shake the snow from his long brown hair. Gray noticed that instead of rosy cheeks like the other guests that had come in from the snow, Cliff was deathly pale. He realized that he would likely be getting another "I don't want to talk about it" tonight if the blacksmith trainee made any attempts at conversation. Gray was in no hurry to return to his room for the evening.

The bespectacled young man pulled a bowl of peanuts between them and shelled one. "Did Popuri ever tell you how my parents started the poultry farm?"

The apprentice shook his head.

Rick chuckled. "Well, Mom and Dad weren't always into the poultry business. When they were on their honeymoon, Dad bought a rooster and a hen. The two started producing chicks, and, well, the rest is history," he popped the peanut into his mouth and nodded to no one in particular. "I always thought that it was cool that my parents had to learn everything from scratch."

"Well, I know what that feels like." Gray took a sip of scotch and relished in the warm sensations that traveled from his throat to his stomach. "I dunno if _cool_ is the word I'd use for it. Maybe _hard_ is a better term." He shelled a nut of his own.

The poultry farmer gave him a slap on the shoulder as he let out a breathy laugh. "Well, you sure are cynical. You're a lot different than my sister – she thinks _everything_ is amazing." He drank deeply from his wine.

He wasn't sure how to reply to this. Gray chewed on his shelled peanut instead of speaking. If Rick thought they were too different, maybe that was his way of telling him to back off from his sister…

"Sometimes it's hard to pull Popuri's head from the clouds," Rick continued. "She's in love with the idea of traveling the world, but she has no idea that it will really mean."

The apprentice immediately felt his tension fade. "Eh? You mean seasickness and jetlag?" A hint of a smirk crossed Gray's lips. An image of the young woman on a ship with the wind playing at those cotton candy curls was an appealing image, albeit a romanticized one, much like the illusion he saw of her yesterday before she snapped at her brother. He realized she'd most likely be leaned over the edge of the boat or lying in her cabin, ill – she had mentioned to the young man once that carriage rides made her feel sick.

The poultry farmer shook his head as he shelled another peanut and popped the contents into his mouth. "She'd be abandoning Mom just like Dad did."

His companion's stomach did a flip at the notion. This wasn't about his own parents, Gray reminded himself. "I… I think she's focused on the idea of what she sees as adventure," he replied honestly, "but at the same time, I wonder if that would truly make her happy." He took another sip of his scotch and watched the ice cubes in the glass glisten from the lights above. Granted, he had his own selfish reasons for Popuri to stay, but when he really thought about the young woman, he couldn't imagine her leaving her family behind like that.

"Finally, someone who understands! Karen keeps telling me to lighten up, but she coddles Popuri… and because she gives her whatever she wants, I get to play the role of villain," Rick bit his lip as he stared into his glass bitterly, swirling the burgundy liquid thoughtfully.

"I'm… sure she doesn't see you that way." Gray was suddenly aware how stiffly he had been sitting in his barstool. He wasn't used to simply listening to other people vent and offering to provide comfort. The apprentice had spent so many evenings in his room ranting and raving to his roommate about how impossible Saibara's standards were and how he never thought he would be a good blacksmith. He never thought of how it made his roommate feel to hear this day after day. Cliff would always listen without complaint and offer a few words in encouragement in a calm, soft voice. Gray always felt great after a ranting session, but he was realizing for the first time that it took effort to listen to complaining, even if he did agree with Rick on a few things.

The poultry farmer seemed keen on changing the subject, embarrassed at his expression of unhappiness. Gray had a way of making him feel ashamed for feeling that way about both his sister and Karen. "When we were little, we had this weird tradition for Starry Night," Rick looked wistfully into his glass. "Dad would let me and Popuri each pick one chicken. I'd pick a rooster and she'd pick a hen. We would give them names and pardon them."

Gray finished off his drink and looked at Rick curiously. "Pardon them? For doing what, crowing too early in the morning?" he snickered as the alcohol hit him.

Rick chuckled. "Pardon them, as in not eat them."

"Ah," a sheepish grin spread across the apprentice's face. "My bad."

"So, what do you and Saibara do for Starry Night?" his companion asked, finishing off his wine with a long sip.

Gray grunted, shrugging. "Have a sit-down meal together, I guess. Try to be civil to one another. You know, the usual family stuff."

He jumped when he was met with a loud, hearty laugh in reply. "Oh, you're serious." Rick's face visibly fell as he went silent.

The young man tugged on his hat to conceal his eyes; his face was flushed with embarrassment. "He's not that bad, I suppose. Can't cook worth a damn, though. Not like I'm really one to talk," he mumbled softly as he stared at the liquid in his glass. The ice cubes clanked loudly against each other. The blacksmith trainee bought all of his meals at the inn so that he wouldn't have to cook. "… Although I _can_ make a mean grilled cheese sandwich," his pale blue eyes lit up as his tension broke and he let out a soft chuckle.

Rick beamed as he ordered another wine. The barkeeper looked at the pair curiously. "You better watch out, Doug! We got a real badass over here!"

"Oh, really?" He raised a ginger eyebrow in amusement, his moustache turning into a huge grin.

The poultry farmer bobbed his strawberry blond head. "This kid says he can make a grilled cheese sandwich like you wouldn't believe!"

The apprentice rolled his eyes. "You need to cut off Rick's supply, Doug," he smirked. The young man stole a glance at his companion and saw a pout on the young man's face that looked very similar to his younger sister's; Gray almost laughed aloud.

"What kind of cheese do you use?" The cook asked in a not-so-innocent manner, rolling up his sleeves as if challenging his tenant to a duel. A smug expression filled the man's honey-colored eyes as he sized up Gray.

"'Murrican…" came a mumbled reply.

The barkeep cupped a hand to his ear and fluttered his eyelids, leaning dramatically over the bar counter, his well-toned forearms intimidating Gray a bit. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch that. Could you repeat that please?"

Obviously he had chosen the wrong answer. It was too late for do-overs. "I use a single slice of American. And I use two pieces of white store-bought bread, pre-sliced, of course," he explained with pride. "And I also use some new-fangled fake margarine they eat out in the city, not that real butter you rootin'-tootin' country folk out here use. It makes for a damn good sandwich," Gray beamed, fully aware that his cheeks were on fire.

Doug stared at him with an expressionless face in silence for what seemed like forever. A large smile suddenly cracked across his face and he burst into raucous laughter that vibrated through the entire room. "This kid ain't so bad! I guess even you can be funny every so often!" His face turned serious. "But don't let me catch you looking at my Ann. I won't have her living off of 'Murrican cheese sandwiches." He gave the young man a playful wink and walked to the other end of the bar to tend to a rather lucid Duke.

Gray rolled his eyes. "Yeesh… I think of Ann as a kid sister… Gross…" He took a long drink of whiskey.

"So are you going to make one of your famous cheese sandwiches for _my_ little sister?" Rick asked curiously. Neither of the two was really sure what he was implying, if anything at all, but they both chuckled anyway.

"…Sure." The young man's reply was casual as a smirk crossed his lips.

He'd let Rick take that however he wanted.

 _ **0o0o0o0**_

 _ **Author's Note: Gray makes his grilled cheese like 90% of American children, haha.**_


	3. Old and New Traditions

Gray flipped the grilled cheese sandwich in the frying pan and the bread sizzled as the margarine hit the hot surface. It was a simple recipe, but he didn't want to mess it up; the young man bit his lip in concentration.

He was startled at Saibara's sudden voice. "Are you going over to pick her up and escort her here?" the old blacksmith asked as he sat at the table with a cup of hot tea.

The young man shrugged, trying to play off the fact that the cheese sandwiches were exceptionally important to him. "Why should I do that? I told her to come on over when she was ready. She only lives about ten steps away. It's no big deal."

His grandfather said nothing as he finished sipping at his tea and stood up to set the table, which consisted of plates and a set of chopsticks hastily tossed beside each setting.

Gray frowned. Had he made a mistake already? Popuri didn't seem to mind when she said she'd come over when she was ready. The young woman suggested she come over around seven. The apprentice looked at the clock and jumped when he saw he only had ten minutes left. Gray scowled when he saw the old man's handiwork at the table and let out a groan. "Aw, c'mon, Grandpa! Make it look nice."

The blacksmith let out a grunt and shrugged his shoulders; the two had nearly identical body language, but both were too distracted at the moment to notice it. "I thought you said it was no big deal."

"Goddess, just sit down and let me deal with it," his grandson growled. "Or better yet, go… change into something that doesn't smell like sweat and coal!" Gray shooed Siabara away with a callused hand.

The young man was surprised to see his grandfather obey. The elderly blacksmith silently left the room with a smirk hidden underneath his thick beard. As he walked away, his eyes were drawn to the familiar cap hanging by the door beside his grandson's coat. The young man's hair was neatly combed. Saibara's smirk grew. He didn't even have to mention the iconic headwear this year; he supposed he owed Popuri his gratitude.

0o0o0o0

The trio ate in silence for a few minutes.

"Young lady, these spa boiled eggs are perfect," the old blacksmith happily cracked the egg over a bowl of rice and dug in eagerly.

"Thank you. I went with my mom to the hot springs today to make them. I don't think a day goes by in our household where someone doesn't eat one," Popuri replied with a giggle, breaking her egg yolk with her chopsticks.

The clanking of chopsticks in the earthenware bowls echoed throughout the forge. "The springs must make your mother feel better," Saibara commented.

The young woman nodded as she set down her eating utensils thoughtfully. "I go with her at least a couple of times a week."

"Lillia is lucky to have a couple of loving children like you two." The old man's face looked pensive as he took a bite of his food.

Gray suddenly lost his appetite. _Goddess, please don't have Gramps compare me to them in front of Popuri_ , his face burned with embarrassment. _I don't know what I was thinking, agreeing to having her come over here. She's going to listen to Grandpa's stories and decide that I'm an idiot!_

"Thank you, Saibara." The young woman noticed her younger companion's discomfort and turned toward him with a kind smile. "My brother said he had a lot of fun with you the other day," Popuri mentioned casually.

He was startled that nothing more was said on the subject of the loyalty of younger relatives. He searched for something to say. "Oh, yeah. I'm a little surprised we never hung out before," the young man admitted. The poultry farmer's eyes followed the old blacksmith as he got up to go to the restroom. She leaned across the table, her eyes boring into Gray. "So, what did he say about me?" she lowered her voice and her words were accusing as she furrowed her brow. "That I'm bound and determined to break Mom's heart just because I mentioned that the place Kai is from sounded nice?" She narrowed her eyes and her lips turned into a pout.

Gray's eyebrows shot up underneath his bangs. To say that her behavior startled him was an understatement. "Huh? Well… he sounded like he was… _concerned_ … about you leaving…?" His statement came out as more of a question and he immediately regretted his words.

"Well, just because Rick has abandonment issues it doesn't mean that I have to design my life to revolve around his stupid rules! He doesn't think Dad is coming back; can you _believe_ that…?" her voice lowered to a whisper as her eyes filled with tears. "I mean, what kind of father just leaves his family and gives up on them?" she quickly blinked the wetness away.

The young man's throat tightened and the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Mine, actually," Gray's voice cracked.

Popuri's scarlet eyes widened in horror. "Oh, Goddess, Gray! I didn't know! I-I'm so sorry…" she blanched as she gazed down at her plate.

"It's… alright. I was young when it happened, and I'm pretty much over it, but at the time I couldn't help but wonder if it was something that I did. I don't think that Rick really understands what he is saying. It's a pretty big accusation to assume someone will just leave and never come back." Gray felt that his statement that he had overcome his father's absence was a bit of a lie, and he could tell when he said it that Popuri didn't look convinced. However, he didn't feel comfortable talking to her about the issue tonight. Maybe when they were closer…

"That's Rick for you, though. He's always so full of talk!" the young woman bit into her omelette angrily. Gray was grateful that Popuri decided not to dwell on his father, and he wondered if she did this on purpose. "He doesn't take enough time to think about what he says until it is already out of his mouth. It drives both mom and me crazy."

"I… I can see that," he had to admit.

A small smile crossed the young woman's lips. "You're not just agreeing with me to be nice, are you?" She eyed him up suspiciously.

Gray shook his head. "I can see where both of you are coming from now that I've heard both sides. To me, it sounds like your brother relies on you a lot and cares about you. He gets frustrated because he has a hard time putting that into words and then he comes off the way that he does. You did nothing wrong, Popuri." He took a sip of his water as he mulled his own words over in his head, but nearly choked on his drink in surprise at himself. Since when did he start talking like Cliff? The apprentice contemplated this strange wisdom that found its way to him. Perhaps he had never bothered to listen to more than one side of an argument before. He recalled the brown-haired young man sitting quietly in the bar while Ann or Doug used him as a sounding board, often complaining about one another. It was easy to do to the young man; Gray knew from experience. Cliff didn't talk much and he had great listening skills. He would always give a few words of encouragement – surely this last bit was inspired by the priest he spoke with daily.

"I know I didn't do anything wrong, but it makes me feel so much better to hear someone say that who isn't directly involved," Popuri admitted as Saibara made his way back into the room.

Gray decided to keep the conversation going and turned to a less touchy subject. "Hey, your brother was telling me about pardoning a pair of chickens on Starry Night."

Popuri burst into laughter. "Oh, yeah! I almost forgot about that! I'll never forget the first year we did that. Rick named a rooster Mr. Bawks." She finished off her spa boiled egg.

Gray regretted waiting so long to take a bite of his grilled cheese sandwich; it was cold. "Mr. Box?" he raised a curious eyebrow, "like b-o-x?"

"No, silly," she shook her head. " _BAWKS_!" The young woman's impression of a chicken was almost too realistic. The two laughed heartily, oblivious to the old man in the background choking on his food as it went down the wrong pipe. "And you'd have to say it like that around Rick or he'd get mad."

"Can't say I'm surprised," Gray beamed before taking a deep drink from his glass. He noticed his grandfather out of the corner of his eye swallowing some tea loudly as his eyes watered.

Popuri nodded enthusiastically as she twirled her fork in her fingers. "But I chose a more dignified name for the hen."

"Oh yeah? And what was that?"

"The Royal Duchess of Peckington." This time, both men roared with laughter. Popuri relished in their mirth before continuing her story; she had never seen either of them laugh so hard. "Of course, I was the only one who bothered to call her by her full name. Everyone else called her Dutchie. She produced some of the tastiest eggs, though, and she was around for a really long time," the young woman added brightly as she bit into her grilled cheese sandwich. "Hey, this is really good!" she commented, swallowing her food.

"Heh, thanks," he grunted softly in reply. A hint of a smile could be seen on his face.

0o0o0o0

It was hardly a walk back to the poultry farm, but the pair managed to stretch it into five minutes. Popuri stood in front of the farmhouse door and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Well, I sure had a lot of fun tonight. It was a different Starry Night than I am used to, but I really enjoyed it."

Gray nervously tugged on the bill of his cap. "Well… you know… w-we can make it a new tradition if you want…" He felt his heart pound in his chest as he began to take off his headgear with a shaking hand.

"Thanks for talking to me about my brother," she added softly, "it means a lot to me."

He put a friendly hand on her shoulder. "No problem. You… can always talk to me, okay?" he was taken by surprise at the huge grin that spread across her now elated face.

"You can, too, y'know!" she clasped her hands behind her back and chuckle.

He gave her a friendly nod and vaguely wondered if she was referring to the issue of his father's abandonment. "H-Have a good evening, Popuri." As he lifted his cap off of his head, the young woman leaned in and gave him a quick, yet soft peck on the lips. He blinked in stunned silence, not quite taking in what just happened. He realized with disappointment that he had been so caught off guard that he hadn't relished in his first kiss. He was startled with a playful giggle.

"You have a good night too, Gray," she beamed at him with a smile so large her eyes were closed.

"Yeah…" The young woman turned to open the door when he took another step toward her. "Hey."

She whirled around. "What is it?" a blush began to creep along her cheeks.

"Uh…" he searched for the right words as he fussed with the hat in his hands. "Can we try that again?"

She stepped closer to him, more than happy to comply with his request.

0o0o0o0

Gray staggered like a lovesick fool back to the smithy to find his grandfather sitting quietly at the table with a glass of hot sake.

"Snow's falling again… One final breath of winter." Saibara took a thoughtful sip. "Brings joy or sadness..."

The young man pondered the cryptic words of his grandfather as he brushed the snowflakes from his shoulders. The snow and winter had always meant gloominess to him for as long as he could remember. Within the past week or so though, his feelings on this had changed a bit. Popuri's cheerfulness about the season certainly helped things, and after tonight, Starry Night no longer felt like an obligatory tradition. He thought of the last part of the old man's words. Snowfall had seemed to cause a great deal of emotional pain to his roommate. Gray wasn't sure at what point he had started to actually be concerned about Cliff, let alone anyone else's feelings. The young man made a promise to himself. He would ask his roommate tomorrow about his past – _really_ ask him this time as a concerned friend – and he would do his best to listen and try to understand. No one should ever have to feel that alone, he realized for the first time. It was as if his eyes were now open…

"Well, what did you think?" the blacksmith raised his bushy eyebrows at him.

Gray was pulled from his reverie. He unbuttoned his coat and hung it up on a hook in the doorway. "Think of what?"

"My haiku, you idiot!" he rolled his eyes as he poured himself another steaming glass.

Gray stopped himself from shrugging as he tapped the snow off of his boots. He reflected on the words; they had actually made him think. "A little happy, but kind of depressing. I guess it was a good description of winter in a nutshell. A lot was said in a few words."

The elderly man cackled. Surely his grandson's goodbyes with Popuri had made him sentimental. "So now you're a poetry critic?"

"I thought you wanted my opinion!" Gray's cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Saibara only laughed harder as he stood up and began to clear the plates from the table. He actually didn't mind this change in his grandson's behavior, but he wasn't about to let him get away with it without a little bit of teasing first. "Well, it looks like your lousy cooking managed to rope in a young lady."

The apprentice went from pink to red as he assisted his relative, but he held his tongue; he highly doubted Saibara had peeked outside to see him bid Popuri farewell. "Her cooking was much better than mine," he finally replied.

They threw the dirty dishes in the sink, both knowing they wouldn't get around to cleaning them for at least a few days. "Someone cheerful and caring… the lady seems to complement your nature well."

He wasn't particularly eager to talk about his budding relationship with the female poultry farmer to his grandfather. "Hey, Gramps? C-Can we fire up the furnace tonight? I wanna make something." Gray was already pulling on his work gloves; he was hardly asking for permission.

0o0o0o0

"Happy Stocking Festival!" Lillia greeted her children as they came downstairs for breakfast. A row of three knitted socks hung above the fireplace, stuffed with treats. A bowl of scrambled eggs sat on the table. Everyone knew that they would be cold by the time they ate them; there were much more interesting things to do this morning than eat.

"Mom, you go first," Rick insisted, grabbing the stockings and bringing them to the table. He set a pink and mauve sock in front of his mother.

A shy smile crept across her face. "Oh, are you sure?" Ever the mother, Lillia felt strange doing anything that implied she had any sort of priority over her children.

Popuri shoved the stocking into her mother's arms. "We're not little kids anymore, Mom! We have something called _patience_ now. Hurry up and open it already!" her daughter giggled.

A bottle of honey, a packet of herbal tea, and a shiny red apple tumbled out of the sock.

"I got you the honey!" Popuri replied proudly, playing with the ruffles on her nightgown. She was especially proud of the fact that she purchased it from the local farmer.

"And I bought the apple from Won," Rick added. "It has a lot of vitamins and nutrients and it should give you some energy."

The woman smiled as she hugged her children. They were always thinking of her with such kindness. She blinked the tears out of her eyes while they weren't looking and let out a soft giggle. "Such sweet gifts – literally," she beamed. "It looks like Santa-Thomas dropped off some chamomile tea. How kind. Well, go ahead and open yours, you silly kids!" Lillia handed them their stockings. She was startled by the weight of them. "Ah, it looks like you two were extra good this year. It seems like Santa-Thomas delivered you something special."

A hardboiled egg rolled out of each stocking, the standard gift from their mother every year. Rick pulled out a rectangle made of shiny metal and looked at it curiously. " _Mr. Bawks Junior_?" he read the inscription aloud and laughed. "What on Earth?"

Popuri's heart skipped a beat as she thrust her hand into her stocking and pulled out her coordinating plate. "Ah, _The Heiress of The Royal Duchess of Peckington_!"

"Hmmm… It seems you two had a custom order. I wonder who it's from?" Lillia giggled, surprised that the mayor of the town would know such an intimate detail about her family.

The young woman knew _exactly_ who it was from. A warm rush coursed through Popuri's entire body as her heart throbbed, touched by the gesture. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the plaque. There were a couple of minor blemishes on the corners; it was the work of an amateur. Her fingers traced the letters and a content smile crept across her face as she watched her brother and mother examine the nameplate and laugh at the words upon it. Overall, the work was a little rough around the edges, but it had heart, much like the gift's creator.

He was like a gust of winter to her: a harsh breeze that came off as cold, but there was a beauty to it. A gentleness, almost. It was a glimmering hope for the future, a moment of respite – _her_ respite and escape. She hoped that someday he would see that winter wasn't dreary.

After all, winter was Gray.

 _ **0o0o0o0**_

 _ **The End!**_

 _ **Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed! Happy belated Holidays, Fading Butterfly Wings! Hope the story was worth the wait! I had a ton of fun writing this one! ;)**_


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